


No One Luckier

by cinnaluminum



Series: Sex Bloopers [8]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Kink, Praise Kink, Quiet Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 22:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20015704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnaluminum/pseuds/cinnaluminum
Summary: “Okay, no. We are not doing this. I draw the line at toothpaste innuendo in your great aunt’s bathroom, Patrick.”





	No One Luckier

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to leupagus for the editing and the cheerleading, and to the lovely weirdos at the Rosebudd Motel for shaming and encouraging me into writing and for helping me decide exactly what Patrick's Great Aunt Miranda's bathroom would look like, down to the potpourri and the decorative soaps. You're the wind beneath my wings, friends. Or the water currents beneath my tentacles? You're certainly something, anyway.

“There is no one luckier than he who thinks himself so.” —German Proverb

David is inspecting his face bleakly in the bathroom mirror. “I think the bags under my eyes might actually swallow my eyes entirely if we stay here too much longer. They’re like black holes; they’re developing their own gravity. I know we’ve only been here for three nights, but they’ve been very long nights, honey _.”_

Patrick thinks David looks as beautiful as he ever does, which is to say starkly, unrelentingly, breathtakingly. It’s true that the floral wallpaper and the pale pink tiles of the shower aren’t the most elegant backdrop, but the line of David’s neck still makes Patrick want to bite, and the curve of his mouth is always beguiling. Two years of dating and two years of marriage and Patrick still can’t stop thinking about David’s mouth if he looks for too long.

Patrick wraps his arms around David from behind and drops a lingering kiss on his bare shoulder. David’s skin is still warm and damp from his shower, and he presses back into Patrick’s embrace easily. Patrick isn’t used to having to keep his hands off his husband the way he has for the past few days; it feels like Ray Butani’s spare room and the motel all over again, only worse, because now Patrick knows exactly what he’s missing. “I know. It’s the most uncomfortable mattress in the world,” he says apologetically. 

The Most Uncomfortable Mattress in the World has been a running joke and a shared trauma for Patrick and his cousin Aidan since they were kids. As the two youngest cousins, they always ended up sharing the worst sleeping accommodations on every family vacation; fold out couches, tents in the backyard, and on one memorable occasion, an air mattress in the bathroom at a rented cottage. But all of them paled in comparison to the most uncomfortable mattress in the world, which is located on the futon in the living room of Great Aunt Miranda’s garage-turned-guest-house. It was a test of endurance even when he was young and flexible, but sleeping on it now, as a married man in his thirties, Patrick has a whole new appreciation for the reasons why his parents, aunts, and uncles always assigned the futon to the youngest family members. It’s just that Aidan runs a thriving business as a general contractor just a couple of towns over, and he’s getting married tomorrow to his lovely fiancée Jiasi, so he’s managed to escape the futon, whereas Patrick, still the youngest after all these years, is doomed to reacquaint himself with the most uncomfortable mattress in the world, and hope that his marriage survives David’s introduction to it. 

David is taking the whole situation with incredible grace and patience. They can’t afford a hotel room given the way last quarter went at the store, but Patrick couldn’t miss Aidan’s wedding, so here they are in Great Aunt Miranda’s guest house. Sharing the house with Patrick’s parents, his cousin Becky, her two kids, and their dog already shows a great deal of forbearance on David’s part, but sleeping in the living room on that mattress really pushes it over the line into nobility. Patrick’s lucky, and he knows it.

“I thought I remembered it clearly, but now I think I must have forgotten out of self-defense. Sleeping on it is way worse than I remember,” Patrick admits, squeezing past David to get to his toiletries bag, which is balanced precariously on the crowded window ledge next to a collection of Precious Moments figurines and a wicker bowl full of ancient, rock-hard decorative soaps. There used to be one shaped like a dolphin that Patrick coveted with an intensity that only a bored eight year old on a family vacation can muster. He’s afraid to look too closely, in case it’s still there. 

“I mean, sleeping is a strong word for what we’ve been doing. Do you think anyone has ever actually slept on that mattress? Actually, maybe mattress is a strong word, too,” David says, pulling items out of his leather satchel. He must be clumsy with exhaustion, though, because a small glass jar goes flying off the counter and lands on the brown shag-carpeted floor with a muffled thump. David swears and throws up his hands.

“You’re right. It’s more like a heavy blanket made of layered denim, really,” Patrick agrees. He crouches to pick up the jar and hands it back to David. “Here. At least the carpet is good for something, eh? Might have shattered on tile.” 

“This carpet is an atrocity and you know it,” David says firmly. At least he has confidence in Patrick’s good taste.

Patrick takes shameless advantage of the enforced closeness in the tiny bathroom to steady himself with one hand on David’s hip as he stands up. He’s been itching to touch David all morning. All week, really. He slides his hands inside the waistband of David’s pajama bottoms, gets two handfuls of his bare ass, and squeezes. David smiles and rolls his eyes but lets Patrick have his moment, which is really good of him, because between events at the store and this trip, it’s been days since they’ve had time to be alone together behind a closed door, and even longer since they took advantage of such an opportunity. Patrick turns his face into David’s neck and sucks in a deep breath. He really, really doesn’t want to take his hands off David’s ass, but they’re supposed to be meeting everyone at the lake in just a few minutes, and there’s only so long they can plausibly stretch the excuse of staying behind to shower. 

He opens his mouth to bite carefully at the juncture of David’s neck and shoulder, not hard enough to mark—just enough to satisfy his urge to get his teeth into David somehow. He earns a little hitch in David’s breath that makes him groan and tighten his grip on David’s ass, and then David has a hand wrapped around each of Patrick’s wrists, pulling them up to pin Patrick’s hands between their chests. He bows his head and rests his forehead on Patrick’s, denying him the kiss he wants, but close enough that they’re sharing air. 

“We probably shouldn’t,” David warns him in a cool, minty murmur. He doesn’t let up his grip on Patrick’s wrists, which is just as well, because Patrick doesn’t trust his hands not to go right back to David’s ass as soon as they’re free again. “If your parents or Becky and the kids come back while we’re in the middle of something, it’s going to be way more embarrassing than all those noise complaints we got at the apartment.”

Patrick’s shoulders tense involuntarily at the memory. “You may have a point.” He tips his head forward to rest on David’s shoulder, thinking. He hadn’t realized how badly he was going to want David this morning until he had to stand here shaving while David got out of the shower, clean and wet and naked except for Patrick’s rings. He likes how David looks here, in this place where Patrick has been so many times before, filling up the tiny room with his broad shoulders and big gestures, unexpectedly perfect. Patrick should be used to it by now, but here he is again, startled by desire and trying to think of ways to get more of David Rose.

Sometime between dragging David up a mountain to propose to him and actually getting married, Patrick was finally able to stop worrying about David saying yes when he wants to say no. When they first got together, he had to be careful, because David didn’t trust Patrick to take a no without making David suffer for it. It still makes Patrick angry when he thinks about it, all the ways David had learned to say yes even when it hurt, and it took time and more than one stupid argument for Patrick to realize what was going on and start working on helping David feel safe saying no to him. Even now, David isn’t good at saying no in general, but with Patrick at least, he doesn’t hesitate. 

David would have said no to Patrick if he wanted to just now, but he hasn’t. He hasn’t said no, and he’s still all over Patrick, nipping and nuzzling behind his ear and down his neck, making him shiver. He hasn’t said yes yet either, but it seems like there might be some room for negotiation. 

“Of course I have a point,” David says loftily, though the way he slides his thigh between Patrick’s legs as he says it is a little inconsistent with his message. “You should listen to me more often. Also, I’m in between stages on my skin care routine and this is not a good time to stop. I need to be very thorough today to try to repair the damage from last night, so if you want to make a counterargument you’ll have to wait until I’m done moisturizing.” David finally releases Patrick’s wrists and steps away as far as he can in the cramped bathroom, which isn’t far at all.

“Okay. I wouldn’t want to interfere with the routine. I’ll take some time to prepare my remarks,” Patrick laughs. He turns back to the lace-curtained window sill and finally pulls his toothbrush out of his bag. “Hey, can I borrow your toothpaste? I forgot to bring any. Also, in my defense, I did warn you about the bed.”

“You did warn me,” agrees David, his voice slightly muffled by his fingers as he applies moisturizer. “Here, give me your toothbrush. If you do it you’ll squeeze the tube all wrong. Or you could just learn to do it correctly, and then we would be able to share the same toothpaste tube.” He’s got both eyebrows raised and his voice is full of disdain, but his mouth is curled up in that crooked smile that gives him away every time. Patrick wants to kiss it off his face, but it’s not a good idea. They’re running late already. It’s really not a good idea. He’s still going to try.

He grins at David in the mirror and accepts the toothbrush thrust in his direction. “How am I gonna learn if you won’t let me practice?” 

“Practice on your own time,” David shoots back, packing away his skin products and starting on his hair. “That’s why you have your own toothpaste tube at home.”

“I don’t want to practice on my own. I think I need yours, baby,” Patrick says, as straight-faced as he can manage, and then starts to brush his teeth, hiding his smile. Winding David up is still his favourite thing to do; it just never gets old. He likes to think it’s romantic. 

“Okay, no. We are not doing this. I draw the line at toothpaste innuendo in your great aunt’s bathroom, Patrick.” David fixes him with a quelling look. It would be more effective if Patrick didn’t find David’s quelling looks so hot.

Patrick ducks in beside David to spit out his toothpaste and rinse, careful with his shoulder so as not to knock the soap dispenser off the sink. It’s the same soap dispenser Aunt Miranda has had for Patrick’s whole life, a dusty rose coloured pump top from the 70s emblazoned with the Dove logo and a single flower on the front. It matches the sink. And the toilet. And the tub. 

“Come here,” David orders. “We’re going to be outside all day today; you need sun protection.” He takes Patrick by the shoulder and the waist and guides him to sit down on the carpeted lid of the toilet, then kneels in front of him and takes his jaw in one hand, tilting Patrick’s face to the correct angle and beginning to apply an organic sunscreen they carry at the store to his cheekbones in small, precise circles. It smells like a summer forest, earthy and grassy and fresh, a welcome relief from the faint but pervasive smell of potpourri from the bowl on the counter by the sink. Patrick closes his eyes and lets David work; he never thought much about things like this before David, but he’s learned to love the feeling of being taken care of, and maybe even spoiled a little. David touches him like he’s something precious, something worth taking time over. His careful fingers brush over the thin skin under Patrick’s eyes, the tops of his ears, the bridge of his nose. Patrick sighs. 

After several minutes of gentle touches, David leans in and kisses Patrick deliberately and slowly, teasing with his tongue until Patrick opens for him. They kiss for a long time, and Patrick lets himself get lost in the familiar, lazy slip of it until David finally draws away.

“There you go. You’ll have to re-apply in a couple of hours but this should get you started,” he says. His voice is the silky, husky whisper he only uses when they’re alone, and it makes Patrick ache to keep touching him.

“Thank you, love,” Patrick says, watching as David smiles and looks down at his hands. He loves the way David goes radiant and embarrassed when he’s cornered by sincerity. Patrick will freely admit that he enjoys getting a rise out of people, and the sharp edge of his tongue has been a problem for him in the past. But he’d never met anyone he fit with the way he fits with David, who is lightning-quick with a sarcastic remark but gets tortured over a compliment. It was one of the first things Patrick loved about him, and it still makes him want to hold David down and praise him until he’s red and squirming with it, all sunburned with adoration. “I mean it. Not just for the sunscreen—though it is very generous of you to share that considering the markup on it—but you’ve been amazing this weekend, and I know it’s been kind of a trial.” He leans forward and lets his nose brush David’s. His hands wander to David’s waist, seeking out the cool, bare, shower-damp skin at the small of his back. 

“That’s an understatement, but you’re welcome. You can owe me one,” David murmurs, pleased and a little flustered.

“I think it might be more than one. I can get started on that now, if you like?” Patrick suggests. He’s going to make them as late for the lake as David will allow. “We’ll have to stay in here though. And you’ll have to be quiet.” He’s aware the location isn’t exactly a selling point, but he’s hoping the other thing will help. For someone who makes as much noise as he does in bed normally, David really likes to be kept quiet. It was the scorching silver lining to every rushed, surreptitious fuck in their early weeks together, those frantic little hitching gasps that Patrick would catch in the palm of his hand over David’s mouth. Patrick has been thinking about those noises a lot, this weekend.

David looks around at the awful bathroom with a mixture of distaste and resignation, then back at Patrick, contemplative. Finally, he seems to come to a decision and smiles at Patrick, a coy twist of his mouth. He sits down gingerly on the awful carpeted floor, leaning back against the wall of the tub. “Ok, convince me. What did you have in mind?”

Patrick suppresses a smile as he lowers himself awkwardly off the carpeted toilet seat to sit in David’s lap. He’s already won, but he might as well really clinch the victory. He straddles David and sinks down until they’re pressed together, tips David’s chin up with his fingers, and considers him for a moment while David waits patiently. That patience isn’t going to last long, if Patrick has anything to do with it. He kisses David thoroughly, taking advantage of the sharp angle to really make him work for it, and wraps his hand lightly around David’s throat. There’s no force to it, but the gesture always makes David swallow and get short of breath anyway, and now he’s ready to hear what Patrick has to say.

“I want to bend you over this counter and eat you out. I want to get you wide open and wet for me and lick you ‘til you come,” he says softly. David closes his eyes like he’s in pain, and his mouth drops open just a little as he sucks in a shocked breath. Patrick loves this part, the moment when he can feel David light up for him, when his habitual anxious tension shifts into livewire readiness, when David stops thinking and worrying and assessing and just gives Patrick his undivided attention. “I don’t even think I’ll need to touch your cock, will I?” he goes on, with a gentle squeeze to David’s throat that turns David’s breathy laugh into a moan.

“No,” David agrees raggedly. “Probably not. Fuck, Patrick, your mouth. Keep talking to me?”

“Is that what you need, sweetheart? I missed this all week. Should have planned ahead and had you on Tuesday when we had the time—you could have made all the noise you wanted.” Patrick keeps one hand on David’s throat and shoves the other down his pants to feel him getting hard. “But this is fun, too. You really need it, don’t you? Five days is too long for you.”

David whines and shivers, which Patrick takes as agreement. It never stops being hot, how easy it is to take David apart. He takes his hand out of David’s pants and helps him stand up, then pushes in close to kiss him roughly. He must push a little too hard, though, because David stumbles back against the frosted glass sliding door of the shower, and there’s a sudden screech of metal on metal followed by a clunk.

“Oh fuck, what did we do?” David hisses. He turns and touches the glass with a tentative hand, and it creaks ominously and shifts. David whirls to look at Patrick, eyes wide and dismayed. “We broke the shower. We weren’t even in the shower! I knew this was a bad idea.”

Patrick takes him by the shoulders and moves him aside. “No, it’s okay, the rollers on this thing have been loose forever; it jumps the tracks if you breathe on it wrong. I just forgot. I can fix it, just hang on.” It takes a couple of tries but he still remembers the trick, and the door clunks again as it settles back into the track. 

When Patrick stands up, David is leaning on the counter with his arms crossed, looking less impressed and less aroused than Patrick would like him to be. He uncrosses his arms, though, as Patrick moves closer, and wraps them around Patrick’s shoulders to haul him in for a kiss.

“That was definitely your fault,” David murmurs into his mouth, “but it was also kind of hot how fast you fixed it. I was having visions of having to explain it to your parents, so thank you for your efficiency.”

“You’re welcome. Um, does this mean you still…?” Patrick trails off, hopeful.

David laughs softly into the narrow space between them. “Yeah, if you want. You still owe me one, honey. We can be late for the lake.”

“Good. Okay, then I think you should probably take off your pants.”

“Oh, I should? Probably?” He’s always so mouthy until Patrick gets him where he wants him. It might take a little work to get him back to needy and incoherent, but Patrick doesn’t mind. He’s willing to put in the time.

“Yeah, probably,” he replies mildly. “If you still want me to rim you til you come all over this awful countertop. Take your pants off, David, like I said.”

David smirks at him, but he does it pretty quickly, so Patrick figures they’re on track. He pulls David back against his chest and turns him so that he can watch in the mirror as he takes David’s cock in his hand, teasing up and down the shaft as it gets harder. 

“Look at you,” he says quietly. “You’re beautiful. I’m so lucky you’re mine.” He pauses to let that sink in, loving the way David squirms and twists his mouth down on an embarrassed smile, working hard to hold Patrick’s gaze. When it’s been long enough, he runs a firm hand up David’s spine, pressing down, and David goes willingly. He lays his head on his folded arms with a sigh and spreads his legs easily, obediently, when Patrick draws a finger lightly up his inner thigh. 

Patrick has to take a deep, calming breath. Taking David apart is his favourite thing, but it’s definitely an exercise in self-control. He gets on his knees on the ugly but conveniently soft shag carpet and finally gets his hands back on David’s ass, kneading roughly and letting his nails dig in. David’s breath stutters, but he stays quiet, which means Patrick’s going to need to work a little harder. He spreads David open and decides to skip the teasing in favour of licking up and over his hole with a flat tongue. David jerks and gasps and it’s really, really good; it’s almost perfect, so Patrick does that again a few more times just to be nice. Then he teases around David’s hole for a while with the little fluttering licks that always make him writhe and push back for more. When it seems like David is getting a little too close, Patrick backs off and nips a line up the back of his thigh, then bites down the way he wanted to earlier, just on the edge of too hard. David tenses, shaking with reaction, face shoved into the crook of his arm to muffle his moan. His cock is hard and leaking now, so Patrick ducks down to suck on his balls, catching a string of precome in the palm of his hand, then wiping it carelessly on David’s hip. Patrick presses the heel of his hand to his own hopeful dick, biting his lip hard. He wants to give David what he needs, first. He licks back into David’s hole, which is wet and soft and open for him now. David is so far gone that he whines pleadingly and shoves back, demanding more. 

Patrick sits up, props his folded arms on David’s ass, and says mildly, “Didn’t I say you would have to be quiet?” David shudders all over and nods frantically, without speaking. It’s perfect. Patrick grins, not that David can see it with his face buried in his arms, and shifts his grip to the front of David’s thighs. “That’s better. I think I’m going to make you come now. Do you want to come, David?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just pulls David back and works his tongue firmly into David’s hole. David’s thighs are shaking, but he’s being so good, pushing back shamelessly into every thrust, letting Patrick see how much he needs it, and letting Patrick be the one who gives it to him. Patrick can tell he’s close when his hole starts to clench around Patrick’s tongue, so he slows down, letting David ride that agonizing edge just a little longer.

David struggles and jerks and comes anyway, and Patrick has just managed to catch most of it in his hands when David’s elbow sends the glass bowl of potpourri on the counter careening off to the side. Patrick lunges after it with ingrained catcher’s reflexes and, miraculously, succeeds in stopping the flying bowl before it shatters on the wall. He collapses onto the carpet and sits there looking down at his hands, full of potpourri and come, still trying to catch up.

David turns around, looking gratifyingly dazed, but bursts out laughing as Patrick lifts the bowl in his direction accusatorily. That’s enough for Patrick, who starts laughing too, struggling to his feet to get to the sink. By the time Patrick finishes cleaning up, David is leaning against the counter, still trying to calm down, hands clapped over his mouth and shoulders shaking with glee. He reaches for Patrick and pulls him into an embrace, arms wrapped securely around his shoulders. Patrick kisses him, tasting the delighted curve of his mouth. He loves kissing David when he’s happy.

“So, since I’m a very generous person, I’m going to make you a deal,” David says. “If you can manage to refrain from destroying any other precious heirlooms, you can fuck me on this awful countertop. I’m all ready for you, and it would be a shame for all your hard work this morning to go unrewarded.”

Patrick kisses him gratefully, and decides not to comment on David’s transparent attempt to shift the blame. “Yes, please, I want that. Want you, David.” 

David hitches himself up onto the counter and wraps his legs around Patrick’s hips, pulling him close and working the fly of his jeans with an efficiency that Patrick truly appreciates. David often comes untouched when Patrick rims him, and he likes getting fucked after he comes, and these two facts combined have led Patrick to develop a somewhat Pavlovian response to getting his mouth on David’s ass. He’s aching for David to touch him, and the best part about David after he comes is that he’s clear-headed and single-mindedly devoted to wrecking Patrick completely. His hand on Patrick’s cock feels so good that Patrick stumbles gracelessly forward, letting David take his weight. 

“Okay, yes, let’s get these off you. Come on. Take off your shirt, Patrick, help me out,” David says impatiently, working Patrick’s jeans off with one hand and keeping a firm grip on his cock with the other. Patrick struggles out of his t-shirt and kicks the pants out of the way, sliding his hands up David’s thighs to spread them wider and catching his mouth in a harsh, desperate kiss. He’s already thinking about the slick tightness of David’s ass and the noises he makes when he takes Patrick’s cock, when David pulls back abruptly, swearing.

Patrick freezes. “Are you okay? Did I—”

“No, you’re fine. I’m fine. It’s just—I didn’t bring lube. Did you? I figured it was only a few days and we weren’t even going to have a bedroom, so…” David trails off in frustration.

“Shit. No, I didn’t. You always do. It’s on your packing list, right at the top.” Patrick isn’t going to make a federal case out of it, but there’s a division of responsibilities in this relationship, and David handles that category. “Um, there’s probably some conditioner in the shower. Or there’s the sunscreen?” he ventures, but he knows even before he’s finished saying it that it’s incorrect. 

“Okay, no. First of all, none of _that_ is getting anywhere near _this_.” David gestures with stiff, offended hands to the shower, and then to himself with a sort of full-body shimmy that has Patrick suppressing a smile. “And secondly, sunscreen? Oh my god Patrick, you’re lucky you have me around or you’d be toothpaste-less and suffering from chemical burns on your dick. Sunscreen is not an acceptable substitute for lube. I just remembered I have some coconut oil, though, so we can make do.” David rummages in his leather bag, pulls out a small glass jar, and smacks it into Patrick’s hand judgmentally. “Sunscreen, really?”

Patrick doesn’t even try to defend himself, because David is already leaning back and lifting his legs so that Patrick can get his shoulders under them. He’ll probably never let Patrick live it down. Patrick doesn't care; David can laugh for the rest of his life over it, lecture him endlessly on safe sex products, tell the story to Stevie (which he definitely will, oh god)—as long as he keeps looking up at Patrick like this, playful and indulgent, as long as he lets Patrick have this with him. Patrick presses a kiss to David’s left ankle, coats his fingers with oil, and rubs them firmly over David's hole, then pushes two in at once, curling them the way David likes. David sucks in a noisy breath and tenses around them, but he’s so open from Patrick’s tongue that it’s easy. 

“Yeah, like that, please,” he sighs contentedly. “Love your fingers, Patrick, love how you fuck me just right. Fuck, right there, _please_.”

Patrick kisses David slow and dirty and keeps stretching him, carefully maintaining the practiced curve of fingers that hits his sweet spot on every thrust, and David shoves down into it again and again, frantic and determined. It's a rhythm they’ve perfected by now, and sometimes if Patrick is lucky he can get David to come again this way. He's not quite sure when that became his goal this morning, given the comedy of errors it’s been so far, but he's going to give it his best shot anyway.

He doesn’t have a lot of patience left in him by this point, though, especially with the sweet, needy sounds David is trying to smother in Patrick’s shoulder, where he’s working on an entirely beach-inappropriate bruise that Patrick can’t bring himself to care about right now. Everything has narrowed down to the hot clench of David around his fingers and the throb of his waiting cock. Fortunately he doesn’t have to be patient for long, in the end, because David throws his head back and moans, taking hold of his own cock and starting to pull at it. It never takes long after that before he wants Patrick in him, and today is no different.

“I fucking want this all the time, you’re right, it was too long. I need more, Patrick. I need--I need you, please, please fuck me. ” His voice is a ruin, rough and uneven. He could ask for anything in this voice and Patrick would do it, but right now they both want the same thing, so that’s okay. 

Patrick slicks up his cock, lines up, and pushes in; one long, slow, exquisite thrust, not stopping until he’s as deep as he can go and his shoulder is burning from the drag of David’s teeth.

“Shhhh, shhh, it’s okay. Fuck, David, you feel so good. Can I move?” At David’s nod, Patrick hitches him closer by the hips and starts up a rhythm of short, deep thrusts, trying his best to maximize stimulation for David and minimize it for himself. He’s way too close already, and David needs more time. David is doing his part, stroking his own cock quickly and curling his hips up to help with the angle, but it’s not going to be enough to get him there before Patrick if Patrick doesn’t find another way to help him. David isn’t talking anymore, but he has stopped trying to be quiet, and the loud, desperate sounds he’s making aren’t making it easy for Patrick to hang on. He’s trying to think of a way to even things up when he remembers a move he hasn’t had to use in a long time.

He lets go of David’s hips and grabs David's free hand, guiding it up over David’s head to brace against the wall for leverage. He braces one of his own hands on the wall, too, then covers David’s mouth with the other and leans in close to nip delicately at his ear. “You’re getting too loud again, sweetheart, so I’m going to help you out. I’m not going to move this hand til you come for me. Get to work.”

David jerks like he’s been shocked and his eyes go very wide above Patrick’s hand. His own hand moves even faster on his cock and Patrick starts to fuck him again in earnest, giving it everything he has. The pleasure builds quickly this time, and then David is shaking underneath him and coming with a high, muffled whine, his mouth open under Patrick’s hand, and that’s too much for Patrick. He shoves in as hard as he can and comes with a tortured groan, then falls forward, spending the last of his energy to move his hand out of the way and kiss David’s beautiful, filthy mouth.

It takes a moment, but eventually David starts to shift under him uncomfortably and pulls out of the kiss. “This soap dispenser is really digging into my back, can we just…” 

Patrick disengages carefully and starts to look around for something to clean up with, and David struggles sideways, trying to sit up. Suddenly, there’s a splintering crack as his shoulder knocks the medicine cabinet askew and his flailing elbow punches the resulting hole in the drywall even wider. David curses and lurches forward, and he’s still hunched over on the edge of the counter, cradling his arm and swearing, when Patrick’s phone starts to ring. 

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi sweetie, where are you? Your dad said you didn’t want directions to the lake, but you know how he is about that google thing; he just doesn’t trust it. He wanted me to call and make sure you’re not lost.”

“Um. Lost? No, we’re not—ah, we’re not lost. Actually, we’re…” Patrick trails off, staring blankly at cracked wooden frame of the medicine cabinet and the sizeable hole in the wall. He looks at David and David looks back at him helplessly, silently mouthing _fuck!_ Patrick sighs. “Mom, we’re going to be a little late.”

*

Patrick has had a couple of glasses of wine and he’s enjoying the buzz and the warmth of David’s hand on his thigh under the table as he listens to Aidan’s speech. He’s overwhelmingly happy for his cousin, and it’s been a beautiful day. Patrick used to hate weddings, but this one has been fantastic. Almost as good as his own.

“I also want to thank my best man, my cousin Patrick,” says Aidan, raising his glass in Patrick’s direction. “The thing you need to know about Patrick is that he’s a stand-up guy. He’s the kind of guy who will lend you a drill and some drywall anchors and help you out with an emergency home repair the day before his wedding, no questions asked. He’s the kind of guy who will take your most embarrassing secrets to the grave, even if he chirps you about it the whole way there. And I would do the same for him. He’s my cousin and my best friend and the closest thing I have to a brother. When I told him I was thinking about marrying Jiasi even though we hadn’t been together long, he said something very wise. He told me not to worry so much about the timeline, because the right person makes it an easy decision. And he was right.” 

There’s a smattering of applause after that before Aidan continues, but Patrick has to tune it out. He can feel the blush spreading inexorably over his face and neck. Somebody is going to notice, for sure.

“Patrick, is everything alright over there? You look a little red. Are you feeling okay?”

Patrick wants to answer his mother, he really does, but he’s awful at lying to her. There’s a reason he couldn’t go visit his parents when he wasn’t out yet. But David’s here, thank God for David. Patrick is so lucky to be married to this brilliant man, because David will think of something to say. 

David leans in towards Patrick, rubs a soothing hand over his shoulder, and says, “Oh no, Marcy, please don’t worry about him. He just got a bit too much sun at the beach this morning, didn’t you, honey? I told you you should have reapplied that sunscreen.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm cinnaluminum on the blue hell site too, if you want to come follow me over there. Kudos and comments will be loved and cherished forever, and also periodically reviewed for motivational purposes.


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